


Red Riding Rick

by jsmith69



Series: Twisted Rickyl (Not Your Toddler's Fairy Tales) [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Rick, Brief Mention of Child Death, Dom/sub Undertones, Grandma would be ashamed, It Was A Dark And Stormy Night, Kissing, M/M, Rimming, Spit As Lube, not your classic Little Golden Book, top!Daryl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 14:56:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8332081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jsmith69/pseuds/jsmith69
Summary: It was a dark and stormy night…
Isn’t that how it always started?
Most places are rife with legends and spooky stories, and King County was no different.  In the small town of Carolton, local lore warned to stay out of the woods at night – especially Halloween night.
But Rick wasn’t really going into the woods, just the edge of the woods.  He had plenty of time to take a shortcut before night fell, so he wasn’t all that worried.
Maybe he should have been.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Noonesangel_noonesbitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noonesangel_noonesbitch/gifts).



> For the beautiful, amazing, wickedly talented and deliciously twisted noonesangel_noonesbitch on her birthday.  
> I would have made you a cake but you live in my computer. So I made you this instead!  
> For always being there - on every level. For having my back. For being my “write or die” (haha!).  
> Happiest Birthday, Peaches! <3

It was Halloween and Rick was alone. The first one he could remember spending alone since, well, he couldn’t really remember ever spending one alone. He and Lori had been divorced for a year now and it was her weekend with eight-year-old Carl, which meant she had trick or treating duties. In the past, she would stay home and hand out candy while he took Carl around their neighborhood, and sometimes a few others. By the end of tonight, she would understand why he had always come home so worn out. 

When she had picked him up earlier he’d already been dressed in his costume – his favorite zombie slayer from whatever that TV show was, complete with a plastic hatchet and dagger, both “stained” with blood. He’d been bouncing around and talking a mile a minute. You would think he had already eaten his quota of candy for the night. She had finally gotten him herded into the car and he’d gone straight for the shower, having just come in from work. 

He ran a towel over his untamed curls and pulled on boxers and jeans. He didn’t bother with a shirt or shoes since he wasn’t planning on going anywhere. He could have opted to work the night shift, but there was an agreement among all the deputies that those with kids would work the day shift on Halloween so they could have their evening free. He only felt a little guilty for not mentioning that he didn’t have Carl that night. 

He went into the kitchen and emptied two huge bags of mixed candy into the plastic witch’s cauldron that Carl had chosen. His plan for the night was to hand out candy and watch the cheesy horror movies that he never got to watch on this night every year. He carried the bowl into the foyer of the small house he rented on the edge of town and set it on the side table, and found Carl’s dagger still laying there. He shook his head and laughed softly, not at all surprised that he’d left something behind in his excitement.

He retrieved his cell from the bedroom and tried calling Lori, thinking she could pick it up before they got started on their door to door but after several tries, she still wasn’t answering. He glanced longingly at the TV where Dawn of the Dead was already playing, then went back to the bedroom. He put on a white t-shirt, pulled on a red hoodie over that and stepped into his boots. He’d just leave the bowl of candy in a chair on the porch until he got back.

He checked the back door to make sure it was locked and grabbed his keys. He’d made it as far as the front door before he remembered he didn’t have transportation. Shane had followed him to Dale’s garage earlier that day to drop off his Cherokee for servicing, and while he normally would’ve just driven a cruiser home it wasn’t allowed tonight. They needed all of them for extra patrols since it was Halloween and they were expecting plenty of mischief.

Rick wasn’t sure what to do. He could forget the dagger and stick with his plan for popcorn and movies, or he could walk to Lori’s and deliver it. Delivering it won out. Carl had been adamant that his costume was exactly like his hero’s, and that meant two weapons. He knew they’d wait for it to get dark, so it would be at least another hour before they’d get started. She lived four streets and two blocks away but it was a small town not the big city, so he still had plenty of time.

He went back to the kitchen and took a small flashlight from the drawer, just in case, and stuck that and the dagger in the front pocket of his hoodie. Stepping out onto the porch and locking the door behind him, he looked up at the sky. It was supposed to rain but the so-called experts had promised it would be well after trick or treating was over, as much as they could predict or promise that. He hoped for the kids’ sakes they were right this time.

He hadn’t walked three blocks when he heard the first distant rumble of thunder and felt a few lazy raindrops fall. So much for holding off until later. Looking up again he could still see the last rays of the sun through spotty dark clouds and he hoped he could make it there before heavier rains came. He was sure Lori wouldn’t mind driving him back home so he wouldn’t have to walk in the rain. 

Except the same fates that decided he wasn’t allowed to watch horror movies on Halloween also decided that he was going to get wet before he got to Lori’s, as the drops got fatter and more frequent. 

He was at the corner getting ready to cross the street when he looked to his left and stared down the dead end street that ended at the edge of the woods, weighing his options. 

Option one kept him on his current route and probably soaked by the time he got there. Option two took him through the woods, coming out just behind his old neighborhood. He might get a little wet, but the canopy of leaves would keep him drier than being out in the open. 

He stood for another minute considering. The woods that bordered King County on this side weren’t really what most would consider merely woods. More accurately it was a forest, a thick forest that stretched for several miles and grew dense not only with trees but was thick with ground foliage, thickets of briars and brambles, and fallen trees. It was really easy to get lost in these “woods” and he’d been part of more than one search party over the years looking for not only lost children but a few adults as well. If he could cut through while he still had the light he’d be fine. If night fell and the clouds rolled in to cover the full moon it would be just as easy for him to get turned around. 

Sparing one more glance at the sky he decided he still had plenty of daylight and hoped he was right as he turned left and walked to the dead end.

*************************

 

The small town of Carolton, Georgia in King County was more than one hundred years old, founded in the late 1800’s and named for the founder’s wife. Like any other town anywhere in the world, it had its myths, rumors, and outright fabrications. The former mill town was rife with lore and superstition, but the most popular and longest running tale, as far as Rick knew, was the Haunted Mill.

The town’s founder, Edward Sophton, owned the sawmill. It was located in a part of the town that over the last century had been consumed by the forest and no longer existed. The founder’s wife fell ill and died at a young age, leaving him to raise his young daughter alone. 

It was Halloween in 1902 and Sophton was at the mill trying to finish for the day so he could take his daughter to the annual Harvest Festival held in the center of town. On this day his daughter, aged only seven, was at the mill with him as no one had been available to tend to her while he worked. Already a child of little patience, she was more restless than usual in anticipation of the festival. 

Over time as the story was told and retold, facts had changed as to what exactly happened that fateful day, but what remained the same was that the little girl had fallen into the machinery and was decapitated. 

Sophton had fallen into a deep depression, then fallen into drinking heavily. His business neglected, the mill eventually closed down and was left to become nothing more than stone ruins. Supposedly those ruins were still there, somewhere in the middle of the forest. 

According to town lore, on Halloween night the little girl can be seen wandering the site of the ruins, said to be looking for her head.

Rick was as much a fan of horror as the next person but he’d never been one to believe in superstition or ghosts, and although there was no official record of the girl’s death he had no reason to doubt the truth of what had happened to her over a century ago. He also knew that hauntings involving decapitated spirits looking for their head were the most popular tales to tell. 

The problem with this particular tale was that sometimes on Halloween thrill seekers liked to trek into the woods in search of the old mill ruins and the headless apparition. More often than not, it resulted in search parties trekking in after them to bring them home. He suspected these searches had taken place many times over the last 100 years, and as many times as he’d been a part of one they had never come across any ruins, although Rick supposed that if they existed they had long ago been reclaimed by nature and just weren’t visible.

From time to time, curious ghost hunters would still get lost in the forest, but those times were few and far between. This was largely the result of another bit of lore completely fabricated by parents in the town and told and retold at least since his grandparents were children.

It was the tale of the Wolf Man, an enormous beast with the torso of a man and the hindquarters of a wolf that walked upright at a height of seven feet tall or better, depending on who was telling the story. With a shaggy mane of hair and piercing eyes, it was said to have razor-sharp, savage fangs and claws, a huge tail, and could run and leap faster and farther than any human. It prowled the woods at night and if you were unfortunate enough to be discovered in its domain you would be dragged away and devoured.

Although there were those on occasion that refused to be deterred, for the most part, people stayed out of these woods. Even the most experienced hunters usually kept their distance from that particular part of the forest.

*************************

 

He checked the sky once more before stepping into the trees. It was just this side of dark and the rain was still barely more than a light drizzle, the muted rumble of the thunder still off in the distance. There was a fat, full moon that was only occasionally dipping behind the low, heavy storm clouds. He wasn’t really going _into_ the woods anyway; he was going to the right and on a diagonal at the _edge_ of the woods. Even if he lost the light he should be fine, it wasn’t going to take him more than ten minutes, tops. He had his flashlight and there would be enough moonlight through the trees, even with the patchy cloud cover, so he wasn’t all that worried. 

Maybe he should have been.

He stepped between the trees and was overcome by an eerie, claustrophobic feeling but he shook it off as he let his eyes adjust to the dimness while he looked around to get his bearings. Night was quickly approaching but he was surprised by the amount of light that reached the spaces between the dense towering trees, which he guessed was largely due to the fact that fall was rapidly stripping the forest of its thick, leafy canopy.

He angled to his right and started off, feeling confident that he had plenty of time to navigate his short cut and come out of the woods before night fully fell. That confidence turned out to be short-lived. He’d barely made it fifty yards into the woods when a gust of wind wailed through the trees and the dim light suddenly became considerably dimmer. He looked up through the leaves in time to see the moon disappear behind the clouds and in an instant the sky was an inky black as if someone had pinched a wick to snuff out a candle. 

Before he could even register the fact that he’d just lost his remaining light a brilliant shock of white lit the sky, a sharp contrast to the blanket of darkness and as severe and blinding as the unexpected flash of a camera. He’d barely blinked twice when the first deafening peal of thunder exploded overhead like cannon fire. He jumped at the sudden burst of noise that jarred his bones and reverberated through the trees. With no more warning than that, as if it had literally split the sky, the heavens opened up and he was being pummeled by a cold soaking rain, seemingly unhindered by the branches and leaves above.

He reached to pull his hood up over his head but he was already drenched, not that it would have done much good anyway. His curls hung limp and were already clinging to his forehead but he pulled it on anyway. The air had grown chilly in a matter of minutes, and although he knew it wouldn’t offer any warmth he figured he would at least try. 

Keeping his feet planted so he wouldn’t lose his direction he looked all around him but it was no use. The forest was as dark as a tomb and he couldn’t see two feet in front of him. He concentrated on keeping his breaths slow and measured, willing his heart to slow down while he tried to figure the best way out of this. He was a cop, known among his peers for being able to keep a cool head under pressure and quickly determine a course of action in any situation. He could get himself out of this. 

He was far enough into the woods that turning around and going back would be just as tough as going forward. If he was going to have to risk it anyway, he may as well go forward. He waited for the next flash of lightning and used the seconds of bright light to try and get his bearings, which was only so helpful with the lashing rain falling in thick sheets. 

He dug the small flashlight out of the drenched and sagging front pocket of his hoodie and flicked it on, which also proved to be useless. Shining it in every direction, the light from the small beam was only reflected right back at him off of the fat drops like millions of glittering crystals, then swallowed up by the darkness. He stuck the flashlight back in his pocket and decided to wait for each flash of lightning and use those few seconds of illumination to get as far as he could. 

He advanced only ten to fifteen feet with each flare of light while constantly blinking, trying in vain to keep the rivulets of water cascading down his forehead from running into his eyes. Each flash was enough to nearly blind him in the darkness, the scant few seconds of bright, white light not nearly long enough for his eyes to properly adjust. He was doing more stumbling than walking, but he made the best of it. At this rate, he’d get to Lori’s only to find Carl sprawled on the living room floor sorting through the night’s take.

He was beginning to feel pressure in his chest the more he shuffled and floundered through the soggy undergrowth, and fought to keep the panic at bay.

The thunder continued to rattle the skies while the wind whistled and whined through and around the massive trees. Above the noise of the storm, he could just make out the sound of branches creaking as they rattled against one another, evoking images of cartoon skeletons in a clumsy macabre dance. Each strong gust of wind buffeted him from one direction and then another. 

He pulled the flashlight out again and used it to check his watch, feeling a fresh wave of panic when he realized he had already been wandering blindly for the last thirty minutes. That was not good. Even through the rain, he would’ve been able to see the lights of town just beyond the trees if he had come anywhere close to the edge of the woods. How could he have ever thought this would be a good idea?

He stopped again to gather his wits, this time to be faced with a new sort of fear. The longer he stood still the more aware he became of the hair-raising sensation of being watched. In his growing panic, his now overactive imagination was showing him unbidden images of an enormous Wolf Man, lurking in the trees and circling closer. He imagined the creature watching and waiting, enjoying his misfortune and relishing in his increasing anxiety before pouncing.

His heart was throbbing in a panic as adrenaline flooded his system. His fight or flight instinct was threatening to take over and both were totally useless to him right now. There was nothing for him to fight, and flight would only make a bad situation worse. Still, he was not ready to admit defeat. 

The noises of the storm engulfed him, heightening his confusion. He stood beneath the trees, twisting and turning in every direction, unable to figure a way out of the mess he’d gotten himself into. That in itself was escalating his fear. 

The flashes of lightning were coming in such rapid succession that they were no longer helping. The random, dazzling bursts caused every bramble and vine and sapling to sway with the choppy, uncoordinated movements of drunk, sweaty bodies on a crowded dance floor. Branches twisted in that way that the flash of a strobe light bends everything. In between the sporadic bouts of illumination, the darkness seemed to shift all around him until everything was whipped into a distorted chaos. 

It was as if his very presence among the trees was unappreciated and he was being taunted and mocked by the unforgiving forest, and he was still unable to shake the feeling of eyes on him. 

He was beginning to feel defeat creeping in. He realized that wandering around blindly was only going to result in him being lost even deeper in the woods than he already was. Maybe the best thing to do at this point was to just stay put. If he could use the still flickering light to find anything that resembled shelter, he could wait it out until morning. He’d long since been soaked to the bone and he was cold and shivering, but it wasn’t like it was the dead of winter. He should be alright until the sun came up.

He squinted through the rain with each bright pulse of light until he finally spotted several thick trees growing closely together, maybe ten feet away. If he could squeeze in between the trunks of those trees, maybe it would offer just enough shelter to get him through the night. Anything was better than nothing. Stepping carefully in the random light he made his way over and began a slow circle around the cluster of trees, trying to find an opening wide enough to squeeze into.

Just as he rounded the opposite side, the next glare of white light assailed his vision and a hulking shadow appeared some fifty feet ahead of him. 

For a split second his muscles were frozen in place yet tingled with the pressure of wanting to run until the next flash revealed that he had stumbled upon the old hunting cabin.

Rick’s breath left him in a rush and he bent over with his hands on his knees. He was overcome with the urge to both weep with relief and laugh at the split-second spike of pure terror he’d just experienced at the sight of a cabin in the woods. 

He hadn’t even considered the cabin, although he probably wouldn’t have been able to find it in the dark and rain even if he had. Seeing it now, tucked in among the trees, he remembered it had belonged to old Jess Dixon. An avid hunter and damn good at it, Jess had been one of the few that would brave these woods for a good hunt without batting an eye. He could wander around out here for hours or days and find his way back out right down to the exact spot he went in. Unlike his brother, Will, the town drunk and a rotten bastard right up until the day he died, Jess got on well with everybody; he just preferred to stay to himself. Everyone was pretty sure that if it came down to it he could live out here purely off the land and make it just fine.

Rick would give just about anything to see that burly old face right now, but Jess had died going on two years back. The cabin had remained, nobody coming forward to claim it and nobody brave enough to venture into the woods to bother it. 

Rick had never been happier to see anything in his life.

Still relying on the sporadic light from the sky, he painstakingly made his way toward the cabin. His steps were tentative in the flickering light, and it took him longer than he would have liked to get there. The closer he got, the more he wanted to break out in a run. He felt sure there was something in the trees watching him, but he kept reminding himself that it was his fear and panic playing with his imagination. 

Finally, he stepped up onto the small, covered porch. The storm still bellowed and swelled around the humble structure, but he was grateful for a reprieve from the cold and pelting rain. He took a minute to breathe deeply in an attempt to calm his racing heart before digging the flashlight back out of his pocket and turning to face the door. He figured the chances of the cabin being locked up tight were slim to none, and he was right.

He flicked on the flashlight and turned the latch on the door, pushing it open slowly and cringing at the rusty creak of the hinges. The sparse beam of light played over the dark interior, and right away he got the impression that the cabin may not be abandoned after all. 

He had expected the damp stench of mold and mildew that’s present when a place has been closed up for too long but instead he was met with a hodgepodge of more pleasant odors: lamp oil, burnt wood, food, and even…coffee? Someone had definitely been here recently and he made a mental note to look into it later, make sure they didn’t have squatters out here in Jess’ cabin. 

He pushed the door closed behind him, muffling the rumble of thunder and the roar of the wind and rain outside, even as it amplified the quiet stillness of the interior. He swept the light over the room once more, this time noticing an oil lamp on a table in the far corner. He made his way over and after a brief search found a box of matches lying under an old issue of a hunting magazine. He lit the lamp and turned to get a better look at the space. 

No more than 600 square feet, the cabin was one big, open room that was deeper than it was wide. In one back corner was a set of twin bunk beds and in the other was a single twin bed. Along the middle of the room was a ratty old couch and chair, separated by a rickety coffee table. The front corner of the cabin was occupied by a wood stove bordered on one side by a small counter with a sink and open shelving overhead and on the other a table and chairs to seat four. 

He took in the empty cups and the plate in the small sink, the percolator and skillet on top of the stove, and two small duffels sitting at the foot of the twin bed with a pile of clothes beside them. The twin bed and the bottom bunk were disheveled and clearly slept in. Realizing that he was an intruder in someone else’s space, even if they were intruders themselves, he was overcome with that spine-tingling feeling you get watching a horror movie. The feeling that pushes you to the edge of your seat and causes you to yell at the next victim to get the hell out of there before someone catches them. 

He stood there shivering and dripping on the floor trying to decide what to do. Maybe he’d just take a minute to…to what? His clothes weren’t likely to dry anytime soon, and he wasn’t going to warm up without lighting the stove, which he wasn’t about to do. He sighed deeply. As much as he hated the thought of going back outside he’d suddenly rather do that than get caught inside. At least the covered porch would provide shelter from the rain.

He spotted a half roll of paper towels on the counter and pushed the drenched hood off of his head. He tore off a few and dragged them roughly over his soaked hair, hoping to absorb at least some of the water. He ran the towels over his face and around the back of his neck then tossed them in the small trash can beside the table. He grabbed a few more to use to mop up the water that had dripped to the floor. Just as he bent to clean up his mess the noises of the storm, although already muffled, seemed to momentarily retreat, leaving a stillness akin to the quiet seconds just before something bad happens.

The feeling sent a shiver down his spine that left a chill in his veins in its wake. Thinking the storm had miraculously blown over and taken the clouds with it, he tossed the towels on the table and took the few steps to the window by the sofa, hoping to look out and see the woods once again illuminated by the light of the full moon.

In the next minute, that hope was crushed and the false security of the brief silence surrendered to the creak of the old door on its hinges. The cacophony of the storm was suddenly loud in the small space. 

His muscles froze along with the air in his lungs and his adrenaline spiked to such a fever pitch he thought he might double over. 

He straightened completely but didn’t immediately turn around. The atmosphere in the room shifted subtly in that way that lets you know your space is now being occupied by someone else. Except this wasn’t his space, and he had no idea what to expect when he did turn around. In spite of his heart being lodged in his throat, he finally turned slowly.

Whatever his imagination might have conjured, it was nothing like what he actually saw.

The hulking figure stood stock still and appeared to take up nearly the entire space of the open doorway. He didn’t know if the lamp was too far away or if the light was just too weak but either way, the dim glow inside the cabin couldn’t compete with the near-constant, incandescent pulses outside that backlit the silhouette filling that space. Rick was unable to make out any features other than impossibly broad shoulders and the dark shape still hadn’t moved, hadn’t budged an inch. Despite not being able to see a face he knew instinctively that whoever – or whatever – it was was sizing him up, taking his measure. His fear leaped up a notch and his shallow, uneasy breaths were almost painful in his chest.

 

Daryl stood motionless in the doorway watching his…intruder?...visitor? Hard to know. When he’d seen him wandering in circles in the rain he’d had no idea who he was, and couldn’t imagine his reason for being out there alone, near less at night, and especially in a thunderstorm for fuck’s sake. Whoever he was he’d decided to keep an eye on him; he wasn’t going to let him wander off any further than he already had. 

Regardless of what everybody in town thought about these woods, they were like a second home to him. He’d spent enough time here growing up he could find his way around them – even at night – as well as any of the folks in town could navigate their own homes in the dark.

What had surprised him even more than the sight of him alone in the woods on a night like this, and pissed him off more than a little, was watching him walk right into his cabin like he owned the place. He knew logically the man was only looking for shelter, but he hadn’t even bothered to knock first. His initial anger had been further tempered by the understanding that this man had no reason not to think the cabin was still abandoned. Most folks knew that he and Merle were practically new to town, not having been there since Daryl’s teen years, but he was sure they had no idea that they were temporarily staying in their uncle Jess’ cabin, which technically belonged to them now. 

Still, he wasn’t happy with the idea of somebody wandering into his space like some fucking Goldilocks. _Shit, in that damn red hoodie he looks more like that other storybook character_ , he thought with a silent, humorless laugh. He’d given the man enough time to realize the cabin was being used and come back out, but he hadn’t reappeared. 

When the man had turned he’d recognized him immediately, although when he’d seen him earlier that day he’d been wearing a deputy’s uniform. While he was fairly certain he was nothing but lost, and he was clearly not on duty, he wasn’t taking anything for granted. He and Merle had an inherent mistrust of cops that went way back. It crossed his mind to be glad Merle was elsewhere for the night, otherwise, the situation would’ve already turned ugly.

He stood there watching him, and either the man didn’t recognize him or he was far enough in the shadows that he couldn’t see him clearly. Whichever one it was, he hadn’t moved a muscle. Rather than his uniform, he wore a hoodie, blue jeans, and what looked like worn cowboy boots, all of which were soaked through. He definitely looked nervous, hell he looked downright terrified. Part of him thought he should be, but only a small part. Regardless of the fact that he was a cop who was more or less breaking and entering, he couldn’t be happier that he was here. 

 

_Daryl was bent over the engine of the car he was finishing work on, hopefully his last of the day. The sound of more than one car had him turning to look over his shoulder in time to see a dark green Cherokee pull into the lot, followed by a sheriff’s cruiser. A deputy got out of the cruiser and Daryl recognized him as one he’d seen in town a few times, he’d know that cocky walk anywhere. Guy liked to puff out his chest and strut around like a rooster. The deputy that got out of the Cherokee, though, he’s the one that caught Daryl’s attention._

_Daryl had only seen him in town once and from a distance. He’d thought even then the guy was good looking, but seeing him up close he realized he was damn sexy. From the wavy curls to the plump lips to the way he wore that uniform, he couldn’t help thinking it might be worth a speeding ticket to get closer._

_Then he’d reminded himself that he was full of shit. He’d probably sit and stare at the man all day before he’d get up the nerve to approach him, much less anything else. Daryl wasn’t one to want to be around many people anyway, but even when he found one he did want to be around, he was shy and awkward, damn near backward when it came to meeting people. If he got lucky and the deputy approached him, though, that was another story. He’d still be awkward as fuck, but as long as he didn’t have to make the first move he was fine. And if it went far enough, well, he was anything but awkward in the bedroom. He had no problems there at all; he knew what he was working with and he knew what he was doing. It was just a matter of getting there._

_Dale came out of the office to meet them in the parking lot and Daryl had moved around to the front of the car to watch them from behind his shaggy bangs. The next time he looked up he’d been shocked to see the deputy watching him – staring at him – and the look on his face had made it pretty clear what he was thinking._

_He’d dropped his eyes to the motor then looked over again, this time to see the deputy drag gaze from the top of his head down to his feet and back up again. It wasn’t blatant enough for Dale or the other deputy to catch it, he didn’t think, but Daryl was sure he’d meant for him to see it. It was nothing short of suggestive and he might have felt a little violated if it hadn’t been for his own impure thoughts. Between that look and his own dirty mind, he felt his whole body flush underneath the greasy coveralls he wore._

_He’d finished up about the time the two men followed Dale into the office and began cleaning his tools and straightening his workbench. As he worked he made up his mind that he was determined to find a way to meet this guy, even if it meant going after that speeding ticket. His back was turned when they came out and got into the cruiser but even so, he could feel the man’s eyes on him. By the time he’d turned around they were gone._

 

As much as Daryl would have liked to stand there and stare, his clothes were just as soaked as the deputy’s and he needed to get inside. Didn’t mean he couldn’t make the guy sweat it out a little longer. 

After what seemed like an eternity the figure in the doorway abruptly moved to come inside. The movement was so sudden that for a second Rick was unable to utter a single sound and once again his brain momentarily froze, refusing to offer him any course of action. He watched as he swung a crossbow from his back and propped it against the wall well out of Rick’s reach, but let’s face it, he didn’t have a clue how to use it anyway and seeing it only drove his anxiety up. 

When the man stepped far enough into the light, though, Rick’s breath caught in his throat. _Fuck, it’s the guy from the garage_. What were the odds that the man he’d been having indecent thoughts about just this afternoon was the same man whose space he’d just stumbled into? He didn’t look happy to see him at all.

 

_Shane followed him to the garage that afternoon to drop off his Cherokee for servicing, then was going to give him a ride home before he dropped the cruiser back at the station. The first thing he noticed when he got out of his car was the back side of a mechanic sticking out from under the hood of a car. The way he was bent over had the loose coveralls pulled tight against what Rick thought was one of the nicest asses he’d ever seen._

_He was disappointed when the mechanic moved around the car and took his view away, but the guy didn’t seem to notice him anyway. He was standing in the office with Dale when he glanced out the window into the bays and almost swallowed his tongue. Mr. Goodwrench was casually cleaning tools as if he had no idea that he looked like sex on two feet._

_Dark, shaggy hair hung in his eyes and his beard was more scruff than anything but the look definitely worked for him, and the smudge of grease on his cheek only added to his rugged good looks. Rick was positive in that moment that he was one the sexiest men he’d ever seen._

_By the time he got in the cruiser to leave, the mechanic hadn’t glanced in his direction even once and he couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. He decided there was still tomorrow when he picked up his Cherokee, but Rick couldn’t help thinking he'd love to come back after hours and bend him over the hood of that car, for reasons wholly unrelated to car repair._

 

Even in the dim glow of the lamp, Rick could see that the mechanic was just as drenched as he was, which told him he’d been out in the storm for more than a few minutes anyway. He wondered if the eyes now narrowed at him were the ones he’d felt watching him in the woods. 

He no longer wore coveralls but a sleeveless t-shirt and jeans and even under the circumstances he noticed that his shoulders looked even broader. He watched the faint light play off of the rivulets of water running down his muscular arms and through the cut of muscle. 

His shaggy hair was sticking out in places as if he’d shaken the water out of it like a dog. It gave him a wild look that Rick thought fit him perfectly. All of these thoughts quickly left him, however, when he realized the mechanic was still glaring at him and had yet to say anything.

Daryl didn’t say a word as he stepped inside and closed the door quietly, making a show of latching the bolt while maintaining eye contact with the deputy. He walked slowly over to the stove and crouched down, taking his time to stoke the faint embers inside and add more wood. Once the fire was going again and he was satisfied that it would stay burning he stood and moved back to the small counter by the door. He leaned against it with his arms crossed over his chest and continued to stare at his visitor.

Rick wished he would say something, do anything – scream and cuss or throw something – anything other than just stand there silently glaring. The intensity of his stare unnerved him and he was beginning to worry that this wouldn’t turn out well. He finally spoke, and Rick wasn’t sure that made him feel better at all.

“Ya lost?”

His voice was low and husky, like warm molasses over coarse gravel. Not at all what he had expected he didn’t think, but it seemed to fit him as well as everything else about him. He spoke quietly, but the words seemed to boom through the small space as loudly as the thunder outside the door. 

It was a simple yes or no question he was sure, yet he stood there rooted to his spot, unable to answer. He thought he may have felt his knees tremble a little, too, well on their way to knocking at this rate. He felt silly if he was honest. He was a cop for fuck’s sake. He’d been in situations more dangerous than this one over the years but he’d never felt this level of foreboding or uncertainty. Of course in those situations, he’d had backup and a weapon, neither of which he had now. 

The mechanic pushed away from the counter and started pacing slowly, three steps one way, three steps the other way, back and forth and it did nothing to calm Rick’s racing heart. He looked every bit like a caged animal ready to strike. Calm but with a restless edge, a bristling energy that implied an underlying ferocity. 

Barely illuminated by the muted glow of the lamp, he looked like a wild animal and again his mind conjured unbidden images of the Wolf Man even as he reminded himself it was only a story, a product of worried parents’ minds. He was sure if such a thing really existed, though, this man could play the part to a tee. 

His heart wasn’t even hammering in his chest anymore, it seemed to be lodged in his throat and he tried to swallow around the thick pulse and thrum of it. A heavy, bone-jarring clap of thunder burst overhead, a sound so solid it rattled the old windows and he flinched where he stood. 

Daryl was pacing closer now. He assumed that as a cop this guy was normally confident and sure, but right now he was on edge, a little fearful. He knew he was taking advantage of that and he only felt a little guilty even as he acknowledged that the buzz of nervous energy radiating from the deputy was turning him on more by the minute. 

“Oughta know better than to wander these woods at night alone…Officer.” 

Now Rick knew he recognized him, he had noticed him at the garage after all. He couldn’t say why that embarrassed him a little, but he felt the heat rise to his cheeks regardless. His tone was no louder than before, but it still seemed just this side of menacing. 

He was pacing in a wide arc now, almost circling him but not quite. “Ain’t ya heard the tales? ‘Bout the Wolf Man prowlin’ these woods on Halloween?” Daryl had always thought the story was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard, but if it kept people out of the woods and away from his little corner of the world, he’d play along. 

Rick finally found his voice and swallowed thickly. “It’s just a story,” was all he could manage.

“Is it?” Daryl asked, circling closer now.

Another deafening peal of thunder beat through the trees. Rick felt completely foolish standing there letting his nerves get the best of him. He continued to remind himself that he was a cop, he wasn’t prone to nerves or hesitancy, but there was an underlying fear waiting to take over. He didn’t really think there was any danger, but he couldn’t be sure of that.

He made another arc in front of him, getting closer. “Get lost out trick ‘r treatin’, Officer?” 

Rick was still lightly shivering inside of his wet clothes despite the fire in the stove, but he could still feel the heat climbing his neck to his cheeks. On his next pass in front of him, the mechanic was close enough to touch but he kept his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. He held his breath as the man circled around behind him. 

“Who ya s’posed to be, hmm? Little Red Ridin’ Hood?” He reached up with one finger and flipped the hood hanging limply at his back.

Daryl couldn’t have said where this new-found confidence came from when only a couple of hours ago he knew without a doubt he’d never have the nerve to approach this guy – or any guy – this openly. Maybe it was because the deputy was in his space. Maybe it was because he was anxious and tense and that left him vulnerable. It could have been because Daryl had seen the way this guy had looked at him and he knew he was likely having the same thoughts right now that he himself was having. Could’ve been all three but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Daryl was feeling braver than he’d ever felt and his guest wasn’t stopping him.

He took one step, putting him close enough that Rick could feel the faint brush of his chest against his back, and he leaned in closer. It was nothing less than predatory; Rick could have sworn the man was scenting him. He knew he was absolutely the prey in this scenario and the breath he had been holding left him in a quiet rush. Every second was wrought with tension and stretched endlessly into the next. There was a not-quite painful twisting in his gut and he could feel the heat radiating from the man behind him; felt the flush of it from his head to his feet. 

His heart fluttered faster as he slowly began to realize that what he felt wasn’t fear at all, but anticipation. Regardless of the circumstances, Rick couldn’t deny that he wanted him and his dick began to twitch and swell in his pants. 

The man took his time coming around to stand in front of him, leaving barely a foot of space between them, and this close Rick was able to get a better look at him in the weak light. 

The mechanic’s expression was a complete blank. Rick took in his features as subtly as he could manage, not as eager to look him up and down as he had been at the garage. His high cheekbones and broad shoulders alike were all sharp angles and clean lines as if finely chiseled and shaped by the skilled hands of a sculptor. His wet t-shirt clung to his chest and torso like a second skin, but there wasn’t enough light for Rick to discern much more than that. 

Even with his eyes narrowed and glaring at him, Rick could just make out the steel blue of his irises. The more he studied his face the more he realized this man wasn’t just looking _at_ him he was looking _into_ him as if he knew what he wanted or was quickly figuring it out. His eyes fluttered closed and when he opened them again his hard glare was mostly gone and the corner of his mouth was tipped up in what could just barely be considered a smirk.

Daryl stood motionless now and let the deputy scrutinize him. He watched with some amusement as the truth of the situation came to him and his eyes fluttered closed. He couldn’t help the slight smirk that graced his lips when those sky blues met his again.

Rick’s chest tightened as it dawned on him that the mechanic was toying with him, probably had been all along. He wanted it, too, and he only had to look into his eyes again for his blown pupils to confirm it. 

He wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that he’d intentionally struck fear into him as part of his game, but as he considered it he was surprised to find he liked it. He liked the anticipation, the fear of not knowing what was coming next and the rush it gave him. His cock continued to swell against his wet jeans and he realized the rush he felt was arousal. 

He was usually so in control of himself, but he was suddenly overcome with the urge to play along. He needed this to go somewhere, to lead to something more, and he was not only willing but eager to follow along to wherever that was. Staring into those eyes gave him a thrill he knew would be hard to get any other way. The same hard glare that had sucked the grit and courage right out of him now replaced it with heat and want.

With his anxiety gone he was filled with a completely different kind of tension and his confidence returned. He mirrored the mechanic’s smirk as he tilted his head slightly and held his gaze. One eyebrow ticked up as he spoke. “Hmm. What intense, blue eyes you have.”

Daryl released the breath he hadn’t known he was holding, relieved that the deputy was willing to play his game. He hadn’t been sure before, but now he knew exactly how he wanted this to go. 

His smirk grew wider and he huffed a quiet laugh. “Better to watch ya wanderin’ around lost in the woods,” he answered. 

He was right, it had been the mechanic watching him. He let his eyes roam slowly from the other man’s face down to his shoulders and then to his arms. He wanted badly to reach out and trace their shape with trembling fingers but he didn’t dare. His tongue darted out just barely to flick at his bottom lip before he met the man’s eyes again.

He had been standing in the same spot the entire time with his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, but he hadn’t realized he’d been fidgeting with the plastic dagger until the other man looked down to where his hands wouldn’t be still. 

He tipped his head toward the pocket and asked, “Whatcha got there, Red? A goody for gramma?” 

Rick pulled the dagger from his pocket and held it up. It was just dark enough that Daryl’s eyes went wide until the other man reassured him. “It’s plastic,” he said.

Feeling like an idiot Daryl reached out and plucked the prop from Rick’s fingers, examining it in the dim light. Rick wasn’t expecting him to close the distance between them let alone what came next and he flinched slightly when Daryl raised the toy to the side of his neck and slid the blade slowly along his skin, causing Rick to shiver for an entirely different reason.

“Surely ya wasn’t gonna fend off the Wolf Man with this, Officer,” he said with a slow shake of his head. 

Rick cleared his throat. “My son forgot it, I was taking it to him.” 

He swallowed thickly and Daryl’s eyes were drawn to the hollow of his throat. He lowered the knife but replaced it with his hand, laying it against his neck and rubbing the coarse pad of his thumb gently but firmly over his Adam’s apple. 

Daryl couldn’t get over the fact that this man was just standing there willing to let him do whatever he wanted. It was thrilling in a way he’d never experienced before. His cock was straining against its confines of soaked denim and he was almost at the end of his ability to keep teasing his deputy.

His choice of words surprised him – _his_ deputy – but he quickly decided that as long as he was here like this he was _his_. That might not be the case once he was gone, although he hoped it could be, but for now, he was going to do the things to him he’d thought about doing since he’d left the garage.

He dropped his hand and stepped back, and Rick immediately missed the warmth of his touch and the feeling of his pulse thrumming underneath the rough palm. 

Daryl looked him up and down and said, “Lose the hood.”

He watched the man’s brief struggle to pull the rain drenched sweatshirt over his head and when the t-shirt he wore underneath rode up to reveal bare skin his tongue darted out to skim his bottom lip as his hands fisted at his sides. Daryl took the hoodie and tossed it behind the other man in the direction of the couch then stepped back to study him. He was disappointed that there was another layer of clothes hiding what he wanted to see and he shook his head slowly.

“That won’t do,” he said and tossed the plastic dagger over onto the table. 

He unsnapped the sheath hanging at his hip and pulled out his very real, very sharp hunting knife. Rick’s eyes darted to it and his heart skipped a beat but he barely had time to wonder how he’d missed that detail when Daryl stepped forward and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt. With one flick of his wrist, he cut nearly halfway up the front of his shirt. He grabbed the ruined fabric and in one rough pull ripped it completely open, enjoying the visible shudder that shook the deputy’s body. He skimmed the tip of the blade gently over his skin and slid it underneath the neckband. Daryl watched as he swallowed hard but the man’ eyes never left his. Another flick of his wrist and the blade sliced through the band and he replaced the knife at his hip. 

He pushed the shirt off Rick’s shoulders, his movements slow and deliberate, large hands gliding along his cool skin. He didn’t miss the way the deputy’s eyes fluttered closed, or the slow inhale then shaky exhale of breath. His eyes drifted lazily over his naked torso, admiring the lean and well-toned form, the long, taut lines of muscle. No wonder he wore that uniform so well. His was definitely a body to admire and appreciate, and his skin seemed to hum with the raw need to do that with his mouth and hands instead of with his eyes. 

Daryl’s heart was pounding in his chest and his head buzzed with possibilities. Tension hung thick and palpable in the small space between them and when he met his deputy’s eyes again they were filled with the same lust that he was feeling. He was almost light headed with the overwhelming need to have this man _right now_. The tension finally snapped and Daryl took him by the arm and led him over to the table by the wall. 

Rick stood with his hands at his sides, barely breathing. The attraction he’d had to the mechanic before was nothing compared to the ache pounding through him right now. The man stepped in close behind him and the first light brush of his wet shirt against his bare skin sent a shiver racing along the length of his spine, his nipples drawn so tight he wanted to reach up and pinch them _hard_ just to feel the resulting throb in his cock. 

He was standing close enough that Rick could feel his matching bulge against his ass and he fought the urge to press himself against it. He thought that might be more than he could take until he felt the man’s large, rough hands slide across his shoulders to his upper back and then down. His touch was firm and achingly slow as his hands circled his hips. After only a second’s pause, they continued their trek around to his stomach and up. 

As if reading his mind the mechanic grazed the pads of his thumbs just right over the taut nubs before pinching them lightly, then hard enough that it was damn near perfect. A jolt of heat shot through him straight to his groin and the split second of sweet relief almost made his knees buckle. He could’ve sworn a whimper escaped his throat but he couldn’t be sure. 

Daryl sighed softly behind him and his dick throbbed painfully against the deputy’s ass. That one small, soft noise made him want to bend him over and take him rough right here on the table. But he wouldn’t. He intended to drag this out as long as he possibly could.

“What…big hands you have,” Rick nearly whispered on a quivering breath.

Daryl leaned in close to his ear. “Better to get the rest of these wet clothes off ya.” 

He let his hands slide down to the deputy’s belt buckle and heard the barely-there, sharp intake of breath that he didn’t immediately release, and he stopped.  


His lips barely grazed the shell of his ear when he asked quietly, “Okay?” 

Rick would have liked to have sounded a little more dignified. He would’ve liked to have sounded like he wasn’t about to lose his mind with desire. Instead, the breath he was holding left him in a whispered rush when he answered, “ _God_ yes.” 

He felt the man smirk against his ear as his hands deftly worked the wet leather from its buckle and he couldn’t help dropping his gaze to watch him release the button with barely a twist of his thumb and forefinger. It was an effort not to hold his breath again as he slowly pulled the zipper down its track, the sound seeming to echo through the quiet of the small space. He could feel the harsh, steady beat of his heart between his legs as the mechanic slipped his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pushed the wet denim and cotton over his hips to settle just above his knees.

Rick’s breath stuttered in his lungs and gooseflesh prickled all over him as the air hit the wet skin of his ass and legs, and brushed over the stretched and heated flesh of his erection, finally free of the soaked fabric. Despite the chill, his nerves sizzled and he could almost still feel the warmth of the man’s hands on him.

Daryl pulled back far enough to admire his bare ass and let out a low hum of approval before laying his hand on the middle of his back to bend him forward. Rick went without resistance, leaning over and balancing himself on his hands.

“Uh uh, all the way,” Daryl instructed. 

Rick barely caught the whine that threatened to escape him but he didn’t hesitate to lay flat on the table. Anticipation tingled through him like electric sparks and he was dizzy with the knowledge that he was _presenting_ himself to this man. He had no way of knowing what was coming next, and that’s what made him want it _so_ fucking much.

This man’s complete willingness to bend over for him was almost more than Daryl could stand. He palmed himself roughly, seeking just a minute of relief from the aching throb and he realized his hands were trembling. He released a shaky breath and drug his palm down the other man’s spine, stroking over one taut cheek and then the other. Kneeling behind him he ran his hands down the outsides of his exposed thighs then back up the insides, stopping just short of where he couldn’t wait to be. 

Other than the thunder and the rain the only sounds were Rick’s stuttered breaths and occasional small whines, and Daryl’s ragged breathing. He bent the deputy’s right leg far enough to remove his boot and sock, then did it again with his left leg. Pulling his jeans down to his ankles slow enough that he could feel the other man trembling, too, he slipped them off over one foot and then the other, tossing them to the side.

He got to his feet pulling his own wet shirt over his head. The near-painful press of wet denim against his straining erection was becoming unbearable, so he unbuckled his own belt, opened the button and zipper, and let the loose fitting jeans hang around his hips. 

With his right boot, he gently nudged the other man’s feet apart, encouraging him to spread his legs wider. His throat went dry at the sight of his deputy completely bared to him and he couldn’t resist running his hands from the back of his thighs over his naked cheeks and up his back.

Rick’s heart stuttered and he thought it would stop completely when he heard the clink of the other man’s belt buckle and the sound of his zipper behind him. It was nearly impossible to draw a breath and his body seemed to vibrate with the need to feel him inside of him. 

He let out a ragged sigh and his hips rocked involuntarily against the edge of the table at the feel of the mechanic’s hands on him again. They were work-rough and calloused and his touches were like red-hot sparks sizzling against his clammy skin. They were fevered patience and aggressive tenderness and he was sure they were going to burn him alive. 

Daryl saw the grind of his hips and he couldn’t take it anymore. The more he teased his deputy the more he teased himself and he was surprised he’d held out this long. Gripping his upper arms he pulled him to stand upright with his back against his chest, his cool skin a heady contrast to the heat of his own. Even the feel of all of that naked flesh under his hands hadn’t prepared him for just how good he would feel molded to him. He thought it was a perfect fit.

Rick whimpered at the feel of the man’s hot skin against him, the perfect blend of tension and relaxation. The tickle from the light dusting of chest hair sent another shiver coursing through him despite the warmth at his back. 

Daryl wanted badly to grind against his ass to relieve the insistent ache in his cock but he knew if he started he wouldn’t be able to stop. He grazed his lips along the man’s shoulder and looked down to see his cock standing rigid and straight, the thin line of pre-cum barely visible in the soft light. He couldn’t stop his hips from rolling against him, pulling a soft groan from the deputy. 

“Sure ya was jus' lost in the woods? Jus' got turned around?”

Rick nodded mutely, the warm puffs of breath against his neck stealing his voice.

“Sure ya weren’t out here lookin’ for somethin’ else, Red?” 

Rick could hear the husky grit of arousal in his voice that perfectly matched the next rumble of thunder. It rolled through his bones and rattled his senses and he still couldn’t utter a word. 

Daryl slid a hand up his side and let the pad of his middle finger tease at his nipple, relishing in the quiet gasp and shudder. “’Cause ya know, I saw ya doin’ plenty of lookin’ at the garage.”

The mechanic was using two fingers now in a teasing glide across the sensitive flesh, every pass sending tiny shocks of arousal straight through him like plucking a guitar string that was wound too tight and threatened to snap. His heart was beating fit to burst and his nerves felt frayed to the quick in the very best way. 

Daryl’s free hand wandered up to grip the side of Rick’s neck and he could feel the man’s pulse racing to match his own. He slid his hand up and into his hair, fisting his wet curls just tight enough to sting his scalp, and turned his head until the deputy met his eyes. He could feel it. 

The energy humming between them was every bit as raw and fierce as the sizzling forks of lightning that ripped across the night sky. Before, the idea of having this man hadn’t been much more than a passing thought, and he’d had no idea that having him would affect him like this. His deputy’s eyes were half closed but his gaze was hot and intense and Daryl couldn’t help thinking he looked very much like he was ready to pounce and eat him alive. 

He leaned in and drug the tip of his tongue along the man’s jawline, down to his chin, up to the corner of his mouth. He flicked it against his bottom lip and whispered, “Open up, Officer.” 

Rick’s heart pounded out an irregular rhythm and he parted his lips only slightly. His gaze flitted down to the other man’s lips then lifted to meet his eyes and he opened his mouth in invitation. The man leaned in and claimed his mouth, his tongue darting forward to slide warm and wet along his own. He wasn’t just kissing him, he was exploring him, tasting him. It wasn’t aggressive but it was demanding all the same and he was sure he could become addicted to it if he wasn’t already.

The taste of him was as addicting as the kiss itself. He tasted like cigarettes and old car leather. He tasted like trees and moss and Rick could swear he even tasted like the storm raging outside. But there was something underneath all of it that was just _him_. The unique flavor of his want and need and that was the taste that he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of. 

Rick kissed him back as if his life depended on it, and in that moment he thought it just might. Although he wanted badly to grab his hips and pull him as close as he could his hands remained at his sides. He wasn’t sure if the rules of the game would allow it, and the idea that he was completely willing to follow along wherever this man wanted to lead him was unbelievably arousing. 

The mechanic moved as if to end the kiss and Rick tilted his head and sucked his thick tongue back into his mouth, letting his teeth graze over it lightly as he released him. The other man growled low in his throat and pulled away. 

“Damn, Officer,” he hummed, dragging the flat of his tongue across Rick’s kiss swollen bottom lip and licking a wet trail back along his jaw and down the side of his neck, nipping at the hollow of his throat.

“Mmm…what a big tongue you have,” Rick moaned softly. 

Daryl leered at him but didn’t immediately answer. Instead, he turned him to face the table and bent him back over. The very little bit of self-control he had left was ready to snap and he hit his knees behind him. Rick felt his hands on his ass, kneading and spreading him open. 

“Better to taste ya with, Red.”

The second the words were out of his mouth he leaned in and drug his tongue from the top of his balls to his tailbone. It wasn’t what Rick had been expecting and a keening whine escaped him as he pushed his ass back against the man’s mouth. He needed more and he needed it now, and he told him so.

“Ahhh...more…please…” he begged on a breathy moan.

Daryl grinned and let the scruff underneath his lip scrape lightly over his tight hole, the man’s hips jerking hard as he whined and panted above him, then he lapped at the perfect pink flesh to soothe the sting. The sounds coming from his deputy were bringing out everything primal he never knew was in him. More confident with every moan and gasp, the wanton noises urged him on. He reached down to finally free his cock from the confines of his jeans, stroking it several times to relieve the throbbing pressure before bringing his hand back to the man’s ass to spread him wider.

The sounds of lapping and sucking and licking were nothing short of obscene. Combined with the booming claps of thunder that seemed to rattle the table underneath his chest and the continuous flaring pulses of light outside the window Rick’s senses were nearly on overload. 

He felt the mechanic spread him wider than he thought possible just before he slid his tongue inside him and for a second he thought he might pass out. His hands gripped the edge of the table as he rolled his forehead back and forth against the hard surface. He was trying to form words but couldn’t be sure what they sounded like once they left his mouth.

“Fuuuck…yes. Mmm…oh fuck. Ahhh…more…” he panted out. 

The taut muscle swirled and dipped and plunged deeper and he felt a warm trickle of saliva run down his ass to his balls. The pressure in his gut was coiling tighter and hotter and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out. He knew this man wasn’t finished with him yet and he was desperate not to come. His body shook with the effort of trying to control himself. 

Daryl could feel the trembling in his hips and thighs and he knew the other man was getting close. Forcing himself to pull away, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he stood. He bent and licked a wet trail up his spine, then leaned in close to his ear and brought his index and middle fingers to the deputy’s mouth. 

“Open for me, Red. Get ‘em good and wet.”

Rick mewled quietly as his mouth fell open and he eagerly sucked and licked at the mechanic's fingers. Daryl moaned right along with him and _fuck_ he couldn’t wait to find out what else he could do with that mouth. He let the deputy have his fun then pulled his fingers away, dragging his palm down his back until he reached his ass and dipped one wet digit between his cheeks. He teased the rim as he sucked and nibbled on the lobe of the deputy’s ear, the man’s breath coming in short, rasping pants that had one corner of Daryl’s mouth curling up in a self-satisfied smirk.

“Okay?’ he whispered low in his ear.

Rick shivered and let out a breathy moan. A quiet “Please…” was all he could manage.

He nudged the blunt tip of his finger against his hole, pushing slowly past the tight ring of muscle to the first knuckle. He pulled it back slowly then pushed in again, repeating the motion until the entire thick digit slipped in, earning him a filthy moan from the man sprawled across his table. 

When he was satisfied that he was ready, he worked the second finger in alongside the first and it only took a minute for his deputy to start rocking back onto his fingers, the moans and sighs escaping his lips becoming louder and more frequent. 

Daryl knew he didn’t have any lube so he was going to have to rely on this man’s mouth to do that job if he was willing, and he’d done nothing so far to make him think that he wouldn’t be. His breath caught in his throat at the thought of his deputy on his knees with those soft, plump lips stretched around his cock. He damn near choked on that breath at his next thought.

He leaned over the deputy again and carded the fingers of his free hand through his still-damp curls. “Got no lube, Officer. Ya gonna take care of that for me, too?” he asked in a low, teasing tone. 

Hearing those words he suddenly felt a near-desperate need to have his mouth wrapped around him. He rocked hard against his fingers and released a shaky breath, his throat going dry at the thought. 

“Want to…taste you,” he stammered as the mechanic scissored his fingers and drove them deeper. 

The words were breathy and quiet and Daryl wasn’t sure he’d heard him. He leaned close again, still running his fingers through his hair. 

“What was that, didn’t hear ya?” 

He was damn near purring in his ear and Rick groaned softly. Every time this man spoke his voice and his words and his warm breath slipped under his skin and wound themselves around his insides, feeding the heat building inside him until it threatened to consume him.

“Wanna taste you,” Rick said, the plea in his tone clear this time.

“Mmm,” Daryl hummed against the shell of his ear, “and I’m gonna let ya. Slide on over here to the edge of the table for me.” 

He instantly understood what the mechanic wanted and his cock throbbed and his ass clenched with the image his sex hazed mind supplied. He scooted his upper body to the edge of the table where the other man stood waiting, turning his head to face him. His eyes went wide at the sight of the mechanic stroking his long, thick cock in time to the thrusts of his fingers. He knew the whimper he let out made him sound like a little bitch and he absolutely didn’t give a fuck. 

Daryl could see the look of eager excitement on his face as the other man licked his lips. He stepped to the edge of the table and shook his cock once and his deputy’s mouth fell open, ready and willing. He pushed the swollen head past his lips and into the wet warmth and his knees nearly buckled. 

The angle was a little awkward but the other man didn’t seem to mind as he took him all the way in. His tongue swirled around the shaft and flicked at the underside of the crown and it was driving Daryl fucking insane. Between moans that were muffled around his length and his already tight ass clenching around his fingers, it was hard for him to concentrate on working him open, stuttering in his rhythm no matter how hard he tried to keep a steady pace. It became damn near impossible when the deputy suddenly and unexpectedly hollowed his cheeks and sucked _hard_.

Daryl groaned loudly as he drove his fingers in as far as they would go and his hips bucked involuntarily, gagging the man around the head of his cock. He pulled back a little mumbling “Sorry…sorry” and was surprised when the deputy surged forward, taking him all the way into the back of his throat. He doubled his efforts and repeated the motion, gagging nearly everytime until his eyes were watering. The puffs of air from his nose were becoming louder and harsher, and the noises he made were nearly one long moan.

Daryl’s free hand slid up into his hair in a loose fist. He didn’t force him and he definitely didn’t have to guide him – he was doing a damn fine job on his own – he just needed something to hold onto.

“Jesus, look at ya, Red. Startin’ to think that mouth was made for suckin’ my dick.” 

Rick hummed around his mouthful of cock; he couldn’t disagree with him. He’d be happy to lay here across the table and suck him until he was raw if that’s what he wanted. Of course, the mechanic had other plans.

Daryl knew he wouldn’t last if he let him keep going, but when the other man hummed around him it vibrated all the way through to his ass and suddenly he was way too close. He tightened his grip in his hair and pulled back and the deputy let him go with a final firm suck and a filthy slurp. He took a step back then gripped his arm, helping him to stand upright. 

He drug the pad of his thumb across his chin to clear away the spit gathered there. “C’mere.” He kissed him long and deep, chasing his own taste and groaning low in his throat when he found it. 

Rick sighed into the kiss. His lips were still tingling from being stretched wide around the other man, puffy and spit slick when he mumbled against his mouth, “What a big cock you have.” 

He finally, if reluctantly, pulled himself away and grinned almost wickedly at the deputy. “Better to split you open with, Officer.” He kicked out of his boots, shimmied out of his wet jeans, then stepped close and pressed his mouth to his ear.

“Name's Daryl,” he drawled low and husky. “Gonna need to know that here in a few minutes.”

Rick couldn’t take his eyes off of him as he walked to the other side of the table. The coveralls, even pulled taut across his ass, had given nothing away. Even in wet jeans with his soaked t-shirt clinging to him, whatever anyone might have imagined would have been completely inaccurate. The mechanic’s naked form, though? That was something to fucking see. The way his shoulders and chest tapered down to narrow hips, the vee of muscle that perfectly framed his cock jutting proudly out in front of him. The taut globes of his ass that rested above strong, muscular thighs.

He watched him pull one of the wooden chairs from under the table and sit, sliding his ass to the edge of the seat. He looked up at him with that sexy smirk and arched an eyebrow.

“C’mon then, Red Ridin’ Hood…ride.” 

Daryl’s keen eyes tracked his every move as he walked around the table. His intense gaze was icy hot, sending a shiver of anticipation through him even as his whole body felt hot. The mechanic reached out and took him by the hips, sitting forward as he pulled him close to straddle his legs. 

He pressed his finger to Rick’s bottom lip and the man sucked at it hungrily as Daryl left a trail of open mouth kisses from his chest to his navel. He stopped only long enough to pull his finger from his mouth and drag it up the length of his deputy’s dick and over the slit, collecting the precum pooled there. Then his mouth was back on him hot and wet as he reached behind him and slid his finger inside.

Rick fisted his hand into the back of Daryl’s hair and hung on just to stay on his feet. He watched through hooded eyes as he licked and sucked at his overheated flesh, knowing he’d stare at the angry, purple mark to the right of his navel for days. 

As the storm clamored outside and the wind and rain buffeted the small cabin, inside Rick was flooded with too many sensations that threatened to drown him and he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Please…now…need you right now,” he panted and his grip tightened in Daryl’s hair. 

It was the closest thing to begging him anyone had ever done and he knew he could get used to it, but he wasn’t going to make him do it now because the truth was he couldn’t hold out any longer either. He sat back in the chair with his left hand on the man’s hip and spit twice into his right hand. He slicked his rigid length, dragging his palm over the tip to gather the precum and used it too. He gripped the base of his cock and lined himself up as the other man lowered himself onto his lap.

The wide, blunt head of his cock nudged his hole and although Rick wanted badly to take him all in one swift move and ride him straight into next week he knew better. He felt the reluctant stretch of muscle as Daryl’s hand stroked and soothed across the small of his back. His breath left him in broken and shaky puffs, the sting and burn were almost too much and it was the best thing he’d ever felt. 

It took everything Daryl had not to thrust up into him but he stayed completely still. He was all for hard and rough but he didn’t want to hurt him. He felt bad that he didn’t have any lube and he watched his face intently for any sign that it was too much. One second his features were pinched in discomfort, the next they were relaxed with pure pleasure and it was intoxicating to watch that mix of pain and ecstasy play across his face. 

Rick’s breath left him in a rush as he finally seated himself fully and he dropped his head to the mechanic’s shoulder, the boom of thunder overhead nearly drowning out their chorus of moans. He could feel the sweat beading on his forehead as he sat stone still to let himself adjust, Daryl’s hand now rubbing along his hip and his ass. Even his warm breath against his neck was soothing as he asked him again, “Okay?”.

Rick drew a deep breath through his nose and released it slowly as he lifted his head and nodded. Daryl’s hands were suddenly on his face and neck and he licked into his mouth, pulling him into a perfectly indecent kiss that caused his cock to jerk and his ass to clench tightly, evoking an almost menacing growl from the man beneath him. Rick caught the man’s bottom lip in his teeth, nipping and sucking as he pulled away. He braced one hand on the table and the other on the back of the chair and he started to move.

_Fuck_. Between his deputy’s wicked mouth and his tight heat, his eyes damn near crossed. Son of a _bitch_ was he tight. While Daryl couldn’t boast a slew of notches in his bedpost, neither was he a stranger to sex. But this. Oh God, _this_. He’d never felt anything as good as this. He’d been full-on pissed when this man had walked into his cabin like he belonged here, but now he swore if he’d known who it was he’d have followed him through the woods in the rain all damn night just to have _this_. 

The way he rolled his hips and rocked against him was purely sinful, bouncing in his lap like he was born to be there. Daryl was seriously worried he was going to blow his load way too soon and he was sure he’d do anything to make it last all night. He didn’t know what he’d done right for fate or the universe or whatever to put this man in the middle of these woods during a storm, to lead him right to his cabin, but he was willing to do it over and over again if it meant he’d be able to know him.

He couldn’t keep his hands off of him, couldn’t touch enough of him and it dawned on him what had been missing since this started. The deputy hadn’t touched him at all. Maybe he’d thought he couldn’t, Daryl hadn’t exactly seemed to welcome it even if it was in fun. He needed that to change right now.

“Touch me. Know ya want to,” he mumbled into his neck as his lips and tongue played over the tender spot just below his ear. “Please,” he breathed out quietly.

Rick’s arm instantly wound around his shoulders, the other hand gripping his bicep like he was holding on for dear life. He thought he might be. He’d never felt so full, and nothing had ever come close to feeling as good as the drag and the burn and Daryl’s hands and mouth on him.

He sat back and ran his hands over the man’s broad chest, flicked his thumbnail across his nipple causing his hips to buck up into him, driving him deeper. He closed his fist around shaggy locks and brought his other hand to the side of his neck where the tendons stood out, taut with his efforts to match the steady roll of his hips.

Daryl’s rough grunts and growls vibrated through him and rattled his bones as much as the thunder that rolled across the sky. Between the warmth of the fire and the heat building between them they were both slick with sweat, the delicious slide of skin on skin only heightening his pleasure. He was sure it would only take one more white-hot crack of lightning for him to burst into flames and burn down to nothing. 

Rick’s leaned in to steal a wet, heated kiss before dragging his mouth along the scruff covered jaw and down his neck, biting along his shoulder until Daryl was damn near snarling. The sounds urged him on and he quickened his pace to match the gallop of his heart. He rode him as hard and as fast as if he were trying to outrun the storm. 

Daryl’s hands were on his ass, spreading him open to take more, thrusting deeper and harder. His breaths were rough and shallow as he tried to keep up with the deputy. The angle was awkward and the hard edge of the seat was digging into his ass but he couldn’t even care. Now his left hand clawed at the other man’s hip as he raked the nails of his right hand down his back. He felt the deep shudder run through him just before the man’s teeth closed hard around his collarbone.

He thought he might come right then but instead he wound his arms around him and growled as he surged forward, lifting his deputy easily enough and carrying him to the bed in the corner. 

Daryl slipped out of him as he dropped him on the mattress and Rick barely had time to right himself before Daryl pulled his legs up on his shoulders and shoved back in. 

Rick groaned at the feel of being filled up again as the mechanic set a brutal pace. It was as if his control had finally snapped. His eyes were boring into him, his gaze burning through him until it threatened to engulf him entirely. He rocked his hips to meet every relentless thrust even as he lay mesmerized at the sight of the man above him. 

Between the flicker of the lamplight and the pulses of lightning outside the window above the bed, every hard muscle in his shoulders and torso seemed to shift and flow, belying the sheer strength that lay beneath the lightly tanned skin. His hair hung around his face, the shaggy strands now wet with sweat. Rick didn’t believe in fairy tales, but watching him now he could clearly image this man transforming into a ravenous beast. He was sure he’d let him devour him over and over again.

Daryl pushed his legs from his shoulders to splay across the bed and dropped down to cover him with his broad body, and he could easily understand what it would feel like to be small and helpless against this man. Daryl drug his mouth across his chest and back leaving a flicker of warmth wherever his lips grazed. Rick’s leaking cock was trapped between their bodies, the friction from the soft trail of hair below Daryl’s navel exquisite agony, and the pressure building low in his belly and between his thighs was nearly painful. He was teetering on the edge, very near to plunging over.

Daryl felt like he couldn’t fuck him hard enough or fast enough, couldn’t go deep enough. The plain truth was he couldn’t get enough and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Judging by the deputy’s ragged breaths and near constant moans neither was he. He shifted his hips slightly and bore down, sure he’d hit where he was aiming when the man’s body jerked and he threw his head back. Daryl could barely understand his pleas of _more_ and _harder_ and his name on his deputy’s lips was the hottest thing he’d ever heard.

He felt him tremble beneath him and knew he was there. He shifted more of his weight onto him and ground his belly along his cock with every thrust. He buried his face against his neck and spoke close to his ear. 

“C’mon, Red…give it to me.” 

The gravelly baritone was like the drag of nails across his skin and it pushed him up and over.

“Ahhh…fuuuuck! Daryl!” 

Thunder pealed overhead as his shout echoed through the room and Daryl never let up. The friction was gone and his skin glided smooth and slippery through the hot, sticky mess of his release as he fucked him through his orgasm, rocking into him with all the force he could still muster. Rick’s body locked up, trembling and tingling from head to toe and he kept coming. 

Daryl knew he wasn’t far behind and he was nearly breathless when he spoke. “Got a treat for ya, Red. Ya want it?”

Rick nodded mutely.

“Yeah? Want me to fill ya up?”

“Please, Daryl…please,” he begged in a hoarse whisper.

Daryl reached out blindly and laced his fingers with Rick’s, gripping hard and mumbling into the side of his neck.

“ohfuckohfuckohfuck…. _fuck_!” With one last, hard thrust he buried himself as deep as he could and let go. He came harder than he ever had in his life, and it was so intense he couldn’t draw a breath. The deputy clenched hard around him and Daryl’s hips jerked and stuttered as he milked him dry. 

Daryl’s thrusts slowed until they finally stopped and neither moved for a minute, the rain on the roof and the thunder the only sounds other than their rough panted breaths. Rick felt Daryl’s lips slide softly along his shoulder and he squeezed the hand that was still holding his as he waited for his heart to stop thudding against his chest. 

He didn’t know how long they lay there until Daryl pulled away, planting a firm kiss on his lips before he got up and crossed to the small sink. He was back in just a minute with a damp rag and a warning. 

“S’cold.”

Rick hissed at the cold cloth on his heated skin as he wiped his stomach clean. Daryl took the rag from him and tossed it onto the pile of clothes on the floor before turning back to look down at him. 

“I can walk ya back if ya want but the rain ain’t lettin’ up. Might as well stay for a while longer,” he said, his eyes softer than Rick had seen them all night. 

The adrenaline rush of getting lost and caught in the storm, then getting caught in the cabin and being fucked within an inch of his life had caught up with him and he was exhausted. The cabin was warm and the small bed was comfortable and he had no desire to go back out in the cold rain. He had even less desire to leave Daryl.

“I’d rather not go back out in the storm. Sure it’s okay?” he asked, although he thought he knew the answer.

Daryl shrugged, “Yeah, s’fine.” He turned and pulled the blanket off the top bunk and handed it to Rick then walked over to the stove.

Rick could hear him moving around but as soon as he pulled the blanket over himself his eyes drifted closed. He couldn’t be sure how much time passed but the last thing he remembered was Daryl climbing under the blanket behind him, his skin warm against the length of his body, then he fell into an easy, dreamless sleep.

*************************

 

Rick’s eyes drifted open and he wondered if he had dreamed it.

As his eyes adjusted to the dim light he realized he was, in fact, in the hunting cabin in the woods and he almost sighed with relief. The lamp was burning much dimmer now, the flame was nearly gone. Glancing at the window he could see that it wasn’t even daylight yet but it sounded like the rain had stopped. 

He was lying on his back in the small bed and he guessed the fire in the stove must have burned itself out. The blanket had been kicked away and the room held the chill of an early fall morning, but he wouldn’t say he was cold. To his left was a solid wall of heat and he turned his head to see Daryl lying mostly on his stomach, his arms tucked under his chest, one leg tangled in Rick’s, and his face tucked mostly into the space between Rick’s shoulder and the mattress.

He kept his broad smile to a small grin, not wanting to read too much into the fact that they were waking up together this morning, or the fact that Daryl could have slept on the bunk but didn’t, or the fact that he wasn’t even bothering to put any space between them, instead curling up against him like a cat. Those things didn’t necessarily mean anything at all.

The man in question stirred beside him and rolled to his side, his eyes blinking open and landing on Rick. He could see the thoughts playing across his sleepy face and he wondered if the other man thought he dreamed it, too. Then he wondered if he was also relieved to know that he hadn’t. 

His hair stuck out in almost every direction as he stretched and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and Rick would dare say he looked adorable first thing in the morning, he just wouldn’t dare say it to him. He stretched himself long and lazy as Daryl untangled their legs and crawled from behind him.

“Gon’ take a piss,” he announced as he shuffled toward the door. 

Rick grinned at early morning gruffness of his voice and his bluntness in general and swung his legs out to sit up on the side of the bed, scrubbing his hands down his face and yawning. He realized he needed a tree, too, but he’d wait for Daryl to come back inside. 

His eyes roamed around the room in the fading lamplight and fell on the row of kitchen chairs lined up in front of the stove with his clothes spread out over the backs of them. He couldn’t help but be touched by the gesture but he wasn’t going to read too much into that either.

Daryl came back through the door as naked as the day he was born and seemed not to think anything of it, so Rick didn’t think twice when he walked outside just as naked. When he came back in Daryl was dressed and had gathered up Rick’s clothes and was pushing the chairs back under the table. 

“Thanks, for drying my clothes,” Rick said as he stepped into his boxers and then his jeans. The denim was still barely damp, as was the hoodie, but it was so much better than it had been when he got here last night.

Daryl shrugged. “Wasn’t nothin’,” he said. “Wouldn’ta made much sense to put ‘em back on wet.” 

It wasn’t nearly the awkward morning after that most people dreaded, but there was still some nervous tension in the air, which Rick supposed was to be expected. Daryl watched him as he pulled on his socks and then his boots, and when Rick looked up he was chewing the side of his thumb and there seemed to be a question in his eyes, maybe more than one.

“What?” Rick asked softly.

Daryl shook his head. “Nothin’,” he answered, and Rick was sure it was more of a ‘nevermind’ than a ‘nothin’’. 

“Ya need me to walk ya back, or ya think ya can find yer way out?” he asked. There was the tiniest hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth and his eyebrows inched up telling Rick he already knew the answer to that question.

He shook his head and huffed out a laugh. “I think we both know the answer to that.” 

“Yep,” he said with a crooked grin. He turned and picked up his crossbow, slinging it onto his back and opening the door, then stepped aside to let Rick go out first. 

Rick couldn’t deny he was disappointed to be leaving so soon, although he didn’t feel unwanted, or like he was being dismissed. He decided it was best not to push the issue for now unless Daryl brought it up, and something told him that was unlikely. Besides, if he wanted to see him again he knew where to find him, and by that, he meant at the garage because he would sure as hell never be able to find him in these damn woods again.

Rick could just barely make out the shapes of the trees in the light of the full moon, and the sky was just now starting to show hints of the first gray of dawn. 

Daryl came down the steps and Rick fell into step beside him, immediately noticing that they were headed off in a direction exactly opposite of the way he’d approached the cabin last night. Seeing his confusion Daryl answered his unasked question.

“Came in the back way last night. The long way, the wrong way.” 

Rick nodded but didn’t say anything. He’d be the first to admit he hadn’t known where the hell he was last night. 

They rounded the corner of the small structure and Rick spotted a motorcycle parked up close to the cabin. 

“I’d give ya a ride home, but it ain’t getting’ through that mud. M’brother’s got the truck.” he explained, motioning in the direction of a break in the trees where Rick assumed there was a driveway or at least a path wide enough to drive a truck through. 

“I can walk it, it’s not that far,” Rick answered.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than thunder rumbled overhead. Rick looked up through the break in the trees to see storm clouds rolling in.

“Still?” he asked in disbelief.

“Nah, again,” Daryl answered. “Another storm blowin’ in behind the first one.” 

Rick shook his head and sighed. “Guess if I get stuck in it this time at least I’ll be out of the woods.”

Daryl smirked. “There’s yer upside.”

Rick would admit he had initially noticed the mechanic because of physical attraction. And while he couldn’t say he regretted last night and he wouldn’t change one minute of it, he found that he genuinely liked this guy no matter what happened next. He was quiet and unassuming, not much of a talker to be sure. As fierce and as tough as Rick suspected he could be, he had a kind and gentle way about him. He seemed like the type to be straightforward, no bullshit. Still, he couldn’t deny the fact that he was sexy as hell and damn good in bed. The delicious ache in his ass reminded him of that every time he took a step.

They walked along the side of the muddy path against the edge of the trees, stepping carefully in the dark, and Daryl couldn’t help but be completely shocked that he hadn’t run the deputy out of the cabin this morning to find his way out of the woods on his own. Or run off into the woods himself, leaving the man stranded. It wasn’t that it was what he’d wanted to do, it was just the kind of thing that usually ended up happening when he got all awkward and backward around somebody.

He was also surprised, although pleasantly, to realize that he hadn’t minded waking up beside the man. In fact, he’d kind of liked it, and if he was honest he wouldn’t be against it happening again. He decided he was going to do whatever it took to make that happen. 

They hadn’t gone fifty yards when the path came to an end at the two-lane road into town. Rick shook his head and laughed quietly at the irony that it was not far from his old neighborhood as Daryl looked at him with one eyebrow raised. 

Thunder rumbled again as a cool breeze kicked up and Rick stuck his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, instantly realizing he’d left his flashlight and the plastic dagger behind at the cabin. He looked back over his shoulder towards the woods and then back at Daryl.

“Left my flashlight and that damn dagger,” he said. He was feeling a little nervous now although he couldn’t say why. 

Daryl crossed his arms over his chest and he was almost grinning when he said, “I’ll bring ‘em to the garage, ya’d prob’ly never find yer way back in to get ‘em.”

Rick smiled a half smile as leaves caught in another gust of wind swirled around their feet. He looked at the sky, not much lighter than it was before, then looked over Daryl’s shoulder up the road. He was off today so there was no rush, but he would more than likely stop at the diner and catch a ride home with Hershel or Dale just to avoid getting stuck out in the rain again.

He turned his attention back to Daryl and suddenly found that he didn’t know what to say. “I’d better…want to try and beat…”

Daryl cut him off with his hand on his neck and pulled him flush against him into a deep kiss.

“Be seein’ ya, Red.” With a barely-there grin he turned and disappeared into the trees as if he’d never been there at all.

Rick stared after him for a long minute then turned and started walking toward town. He didn’t want to read too much into that either, even if it sounded like ‘see ya later’ and not ‘goodbye’. 

He pulled up his hood and hunched his shoulders against the chill of the wind thinking how surreal last night had been, almost like something out of a movie.

Or a long-told haunted tale, only it wasn’t haunting at all. In fact, it was the best treat he’d ever gotten on Halloween.

The next peal of thunder was louder, the storm was getting closer. As he quickened his steps he could have sworn he heard a far-off, mournful howl coming from deep in the woods to his right. 

He couldn’t help smiling at the thought of his own Big Bad Wolf.


End file.
